ReInspired

As teachers we are naturally hopeful human beings (it is the only way we survive the deadly pit known as the CLASSROOM!) However, as human beings we are prone to moments (which sometimes turn into periods) of intense and unforgiving self-loathing. Like an adolescent teenager we look in our teaching mirror and hate what we see. We punish ourselves both privately behind the closed doors of our classrooms and publicly while eating lunch with our teacher friends. We never feel good enough because we can't seem to save them all no matter how hard we try.

But then there is a moment. A look, a word, a note, a drawing, a smile. Just like that we are reinspired. Now as I am typing I see that a red line has popped up under the word reinspired so either I am spelling it wrong, (which would not be a surprise to those who know me) or it is not a recognized word........yet! But I believe in it today because that is how I feel. Today I am reinspired because I sat with a group of competent and caring teachers to talk about teaching. About getting back to the core reasons most of us got into the profession in the first place. To remember that self-loathing is a selfish act that steals our energy leaving us less able to inspire those who need it the most.

"The GIL"

As teachers we have the power to instill a myriad of emotions into our students’ hearts. We speak life and death everyday with the words we choose and actions we take. This lesson I learned at the impressionable young age of 12 as a seventh grader at Kamehameha Schools. If you were a student at the Intermediate Campus during the 80’s then Ms. Gil probably still lurks deep in the dark, forgotten recesses of your adolescent memories. Quick refresher: Fairly sizable and normally angry computer teacher who was once rumored to have gotten herself jammed and then stuck in her own chair. She of the double lunch, acidic sweat, and fire breath. We dare not fall behind as we programmed our computers to flash green, then red (remember this is the 80’s where disks were floppy and Al Gore’s internet was not yet invented!) for fear of her uncontrollable wrath.

I remember vividly sitting at my computer petrified, having missed her last command. Panic set in as her footsteps grew from a light tremor to a deafening rumble. Suddenly, the noise stopped and I could feel her spicy breath blowing from her nostrils through my hair. Through the reflection of my computer screen I watched as she leaned in to get a closer look at my failure. My heart raced but I dared not look up. A single bead of sweat fell from her forehead to my desk splattering my mouse with her anger and rage. I knew what I was in for so I braced myself. The seconds passed like hours until suddenly, the Gil let out a mighty roar. This was followed by a flurry of personal insults and ridicule, reducing an already insecure young boy to a quivering bowl of jelly.

In my 35 years of life I have not forgotten this event, or the feeling of being so incredibly small. I write this not as a bitter attempt at revenge but rather as a cautionary tale. I believe in my heart that Ms. Gil was not a bad person. I did not know her personally and I have no idea of her whereabouts now. However, if I ever did see her again I would thank her. I would thank her for providing me with my first example of the destruction we as teachers and adults can inflict on a child's spirit. Whenever I find myself wanting to “Put a child in their place” I think back and ask myself what would The Gil do? Then, I pull myself together and do the opposite.